


These walls are crumbling

by wordswehavesaid



Series: Tumblr prompts [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Vigilante Roomates!verse, still mostly hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5125616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswehavesaid/pseuds/wordswehavesaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry might not be so alone anymore living with Oliver, but that hardly means he's on the road to recovery</p>
            </blockquote>





	These walls are crumbling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starrxlorrd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrxlorrd/gifts).



> Continuation of "Hold onto me" as promised. Enjoy!

Barry doesn’t really know why he’s here. He feels so out of place.

Well, not entirely. Oliver does nothing but try to make him feel welcome in the loft he lives in in Star City - which he’d only learned about two weeks into his stay actually is owned by Thea and he would’ve immediately bolted if Oliver had calmly explained the younger woman doesn’t want to stay here anymore, which he doesn’t exactly get because the place is awesome - but still. There’s no denying there’s something…strange about all this.

Oliver is amazing as ever, of course. He doesn’t know if he could be making it through without his help right now, but this? It’s above and beyond the call. He’s not sure what it means for the two of them.

Or maybe there’s nothing about the two of them, period. Maybe this is all just about him. Maybe this is really how bad he’s gotten that he can’t even be trusted on his own at home without another vigilante watching his back.

He spends most of his time in Central, of course. Patrols have to be carried out, metahumans caught, infrastructure to be rebuilt. At work, Joe seems a more than a little leery of the new living arrangement situation when he explains it to him. Barry just shrugs and says running back either to Oliver’s or Joe’s at two a.m. to crash hardly makes a difference to him.

A few times, he’s gotten back a little earlier than he intends and catches Oliver on his way out to the Arrow Cave. “You can come,” the older man always makes the open invitation, watching his expression closely. “We could always use your help.”

A few months ago, he nearly would’ve vibrated on the spot with excitement. Now he always begs off. “I’m kinda tired,” he’ll lie. It’s not like he ever actually goes to sleep. The few hours he does manage to catch every so often are troubled and leave him more exhausted than before, Firestorm splitting into two halves he wasn’t fast enough to save, blood blooming across Eddie’s chest burned fresh into his retinas.

But he’d rather lie in this guest room alone than face Team Arrow, face his own team, face anyone. And Oliver lets him, for a while. But he can see the way the man’s eyes tighten more and more in frustration with every empty excuse and apathetic refusal. It’s really only a matter of time before he grows fed up with it and gives up on him, too. Barry’s honestly surprised it’s taking him this long.

Yet again, of all his friends…there’s always been something different about Oliver. But that just gets back to those questions of _why is he here?_  and  _what are they doing?_  that he doesn’t want to answer.

Even Oliver’s own special brand of understanding has to run out sometime, though, or at least Barry’s pretty sure it has when the other vigilante throws the door open in the middle of one of Barry’s days off from the CCPD.

“Ok, get up.”

“I’ll do a patrol later,” he mumbles into his pillow. Then his eyes fly open in shock as strong hands grip his ankles and give a sharp tug, dragging him about halfway off the mattress. “Hey! What’re you doing?”

“Getting you out of bed,” Oliver growls, wrestling to maintain his hold as Barry starts to kick in an attempt to get loose. “I’m trying to be patient, trying to  _help you_ Barry. But I can’t do that if you won’t help yourself. Alright? You can’t just give up because you feel tired–”

“I  _am_  tired!” He shouts back, the loudest he’s been in months because goddamnit Oliver just  _pisses him off_  sometimes. “I’m tired of everyone else dying when I was supposed to - Ronnie, Eddie, my mom - Wells never wanted to kill any of them! Just me.”

“Barry…” the tight grip he has slackens and Barry’s legs flop back onto the mattress. It’s small comfort when he’s sitting on one of Oliver Queen’s beds with tears streaming down his face.

“How- How do I move past that?” He says, voice shaking and wavering badly. “How do I even try?”

“You have to,” Oliver says solemnly. Barry chokes back a sob and nods, something of a smile attempting to curve at his lips because, yeah, that figures. The bed dips as the other man takes a seat behind him and then those same strong arms reach out and fold him into an embrace. “I know it’s easier to just…lay there. Let the world pass you by, but Barry, you can’t do that. I can’t let you do that.”

Hugs from Oliver should feel weird, but instead he’s overwhelmed by the warmth and safety and acceptance that crashes over him in a wave. He clings onto the other man and the lifeline that he presents to Barry because no matter how many times he tells himself it’s better this way he’s still just so  _terrified_  of being alone in this darkness.

“Don’t let me,” he gasps into a broad shoulder, “please. Please don’t let me. I don’t wanna be on my own, I really don’t, I’m sorry–”

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok,” Oliver is murmuring in his ear. He’s rocking them, Barry dimly notes, soft and soothing like the hand that’s rubbing gently over his back. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s ok.”

It’s really not. He’s a mess and they both know it. And even if intellectually Barry knows he doesn’t want to be alone, the idea of meeting up with Team Arrow - all those actual heroes - or worse, his own friends, he still can’t…it’s just not something he can even approach right now.

And maybe that’s what Oliver means is ok. Because, for now, he still lets Barry fall asleep in his arms. He wakes a few hours later to tangled legs and arms around his waist, and it’s at least a little easier to burrow closer to that warmth and push the bad dreams, the memories, aside.

He doesn’t feel as tired anymore.


End file.
